


A Glass of Bourbon

by justonemorething



Category: Columbo
Genre: 403 Peugeot, Adultery, Age Difference, Car Sex, Case, Comfort Sex, Crime, Divorce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Help, Love, Murder, Mystery, Old Married Couple, Older Man/Younger Woman, Passion, Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemorething/pseuds/justonemorething
Summary: The year is 1973. Seventeen year-old Anna Valski mourns her assassinated father in a popular cafe of Los Angeles with her brother, and what she notices at the counter - a lonely, broken man about to swallow a glass of bourbon - reminds her of the crime. As soon as the two start talking, she is struck by a passion that exceeds her, and finds in Lieutenant Columbo an opportunity to avenge the murders of all her loved ones, as well as the comfort she deserves.
Relationships: Lieutenant Columbo (Columbo)/Original Character(s), Lieutenant Columbo/Mrs. Columbo (Columbo)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue: (En)counter

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello! This is my first work on this platform, I hope that the idea of a somewhat unfaithful Columbo won't upset the "purists"... I'm French by the way, so there can be a few expression mistakes (please let me know if you notice any of them!).  
> Have a good time reading this!

She was sitting at a wooden table a few yards away from the counter. The girl was young, maybe seventeen years-old; she was accompanied by her brother, a twenty-something-year-old rich fellow, who had insisted on celebrating their dead father's birthday in his favorite Los Angeles popular cafe. "Remember, Jefferson, when he would leave us to Miss Landon on friday nights to have a drink with his childhood friend, Robert... Robert... what's his name? Anyway, we don't really care about Robert now - dad's dead, and his death is enough to me." she muttered to her brother, who nodded, genuine tears in his blue eyes.

Then she noticed, almost slumped on the counter, the back of a lonely man; in all the noise of the place, she swore she could hear him cry. He was wearing an old raincoat and had gorgeous, messy black hair - or was it dark brown? But she ignored the detail and figured out something else: he was drinking. "Of course he's drinking, you silly" she murmured to herself in her head, bored to death by the mute and deppressing talk that she was having with her brother. "Everyone is drinking in this room." Then she glanced at her cup of tea beneath her lovely pointed chin. "Well, maybe I'm the exception." What made her react was the fact that the man was not drinking any kind of alcohol - he was about to swallow a full glass of bourbon. "Bourbon" she thought, startled; then muttered, making eye-contact with Jefferson: "Bourbon. Wait for me, will you, Jefferson?" she smiled, and got up. That's kind of you, Jeff. I'll be right back - I just need to talk to that guy there."

She approached the bar, her high-heeled pumps swaying on the floor as she moved. Each step was as painful as her own death.

"You know, bourbon's not the best you can have here." she said, sitting on a vacant chair next to him. He turned his head around to see her; his face could not be considered beautiful, neither harmonious - yet she found him handsome. He, on his part, almost fainted, bewildered by the young lady's grace.

"You don't like bourbon?" he asked, more than pleased to have found someone to talk to despite his anxious tears.

"Never tried it. But my father did - it killed him."

"I'm sorry, really, missus" he told her with a warm, tearful eye - the other was a fake one, which made him squint in a touching manner. Both were brown, reassuring brown.

"Oh no, don't be; I really loved him, but I can't stand condolences of any kind - including those from the ones I like. Makes me depressed."

"Yet bourbon isn't all negative. Louis XVI, you know, the King of France; well, he was a Bourbon tyrant, and he got his head cut off by the people. Isn't that great?" he tried.

"I guess. But don't try to drink a single drop of this or I shall be really irritated. What's your name, by the way?"

"Oh, Columbo. Lieutenant Columbo." he smiled.

"A cup of tea for Lieutenant Columbo there" the girl asked the barmaid in a sweet voice. "You're a cop then?"

"Yes, I guess... even though I've been feeling more like a wreck for those two last hours."

"Did something happen?"

She was looking at him with the affectionate eyes of a woman whom you can't even try to fool. She had been next to him for only a couple of minutes, and he was already mesmerized. He had not felt this for a long time - since he had met his... his wife.

"My wife" he confided. "We had an argument over a stupid thing. She wants to file for divorce."

"Oh, sorry."

"Don't be; I loved her, but I don't like marks of affection from anyone..." he quoted her, smiling faintly. "Even from the ones I like."

She smirked. "Anna. Anna Valski. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Columbo."

"But, tell me, Anna... you said earlier that your father was killed because of an excess of bourbon..."

"Correct, Lieutenant."

"Was it the bourbon that killed him or... did somebody take advantage of his drunkenness... say... to murder him?"

"Shot, then hanged to the cellar with his own belt" she said, a tear in her eye, her fingers running confusedly on the bar. "At his office. The criminal unit in charge hasn't found anything relevant yet."

"Wait... why didn't they give me the case?" Columbo asked for himself, aloud. "It would've prevented me from having this silly fight with my wife!"

"What, you're a homicide cop? Awesome! I think you would do way better than this bunch of good-for-nothing."

"I would be glad to be of any help" Columbo said, his palm carelessly brushing against Anna's sleeve.

"I have a good feeling about you, Lieutenant."

He blushed.

"Me too, Anna. Me too."

"I'll try to negotiate and put the case where it belongs - in your hands. See you later, Lieutenant; my brother awaits."

She left a wet kiss on his almost dry cheek. "God, I like this guy" she thought, her heart beating faster than it should. "It's the first time I happen to be thankful for that glass of shitty bourbon."

"This girl is a princess, isn't she?" Columbo engaged the conversation with his inner-voice - which was tired of hearing all his sentimental adventures - and looked at her. "Anna, you'll be my bourbon princess from now on - hope that you'll get used to the title."


	2. Diluvian Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lieutenant Columbo happens to "drop by" when Anna is taking a shower.

"Miss Valski! It's me, Lieutenant Columbo..." he said, gently closing the door behind him. “I just dropped by to tell you that I managed to negotiate alone and got your case..."

No answer. The Homicide had given him the girl's address - she lived on her own in an appartment that her late father had designed for her. But it was not long since she had moved in: she had refused to leave him face-to-face with his alcohol problems until she had graduated a few months ago. The diploma was pinned to the open door of her bedroom. "So, she skipped a year" concluded Columbo. "Pretty and smart, what else could a man ask for?" Her clean pajamas had been tossed on the pink flanellette blanket of her single bed; Columbo crouched to examine them and, without any purpose, put his nose on the soft fabric of the nightshirt, inhaling deeply. He was kneeling now, abandoning his senses to the heavy scent of the silk. "How can a girl smell that good!" he exhaled. "And absolutely no perfume there... God, I've only known her for a day!"

He regretfully quit heaven and moved slowly towards the kitchen; its untidiness reminded Columbo of his own house - well, Mrs and Mr Columbo's house, that is - and melancholy and remorse crept over him again. He was getting the impression of doing something bad, something from which he would never be able to extricate himself. And his wife? They had the most horrible argument an old couple could ever have, but was their married life really threatened? Was she that serious when she had talked about that stupid divorce? Columbo could not tell. Furthermore, by inspecting Anna Valski's quiet and solemn home, he felt like breaking into the sanctuary of a goddess from whom he would never get any praise or protection. "My dear Columbo, you'll never have your damn wicked way with this Greek marble deity, right? Stop fantasizing over a woman you can't have; she's seventeen, you're a married man!"

He took out a cigar. There were pictures of Anna on the fridge; a ninth grade one, when she still had braces but looked like a better version of Nabokov's Lolita, and a family one, taken a few hours before the murder was committed. He had unpinned it, and turned it over; “April 15th, 1973 – Mrs Clairmont's reception” was written in italics at the bottom of the glossy photopaper. It was her handwriting.   
He put the image itself into focus, barely paid any attention to her father - a tall, handsome man, with greyish curls and a shrewd smile - and his attention drifted to her again. With her long brown hair, her wide green eyes and Aphrodite stature, she was the most beautiful creature Columbo had ever seen. Her full haunches looked magnificent in her tight emerald dress. However, there was something in the pocket of Mr Valski's grey-lined jacket – a sheet of paper, folded in two and scribbled all over. “Maybe Anna will know what this is, she seems very close to him. I wonder if it was still on him when they found the body – I'll have to check, for once.” His natural curiosity had prevailed over his sweet lust, and it was with the utmost interest for the progress of the case that he gently called her:

"Anna?" 

Then he heard a sound, like a biblical rain pouring over the adjoining room - bathroom, Columbo guessed. She was taking a shower. His senses got lost again and, for a second, ventured where they had never been before; he could almost see, smell, touch, the apricot skin of Anna Valski under the burning hot water. But he thought his brain was carrying him too far, and chased those ideas away - without only knowing that Anna was thinking the same. 

"Yes, Lieutenant, I'm here!" her voice distinctly shouted through the wall. "I've heard everything you said... now come, join me; you must be exhausted by all these follies."

"I... I beg your pardon, An... uh, Miss Valski?" he gasped, taking the cigar he was smoking out of his trembling lips and depositing it in what seemed to be an ashtray - in his confusion, he did not really know.

"My dear Columbo, this is your fantasy speaking" he concluded, throwing himself in the nearest chair. "Don't let it grow inside you just because you think your wife's gonna break up with you."

But the voice was still there - and God, it upset him.

"Lieutenant -"

"Alright, alright, I'm on my way," he mumbled.

Anna was growing more and more impatient at the idea of touching him - that man whom she had just met, and made her feel almost as if her father had never left the surface of the earth. What could he look like, that kind, thickset, compassionate cop? He who didn't look much? He who did not fit his job? She was sure that there were things to seek - under the ebony curls, as well as underneath the old, worn out raincoat. 

When he showed up in front of the coral-red cabin in which Anna, naked and delightfully trickled on by these obscene streams of water, he refused to face his desire, and turned round hastily. The knowledge was growing inside of him at an unbelievable speed – he knew that his life was at its most exciting and only turning point. What should he do, this monstrous knowledge refused to tell him – it was still weak and unclear to his mind. Yet his common sense was not blurred by those interferences, and he rested his back against the wall as his fingers were running through his dark hair.

"You want me to cheer you up, uh?" he murmured. "Look at you, you're young and smart and nice and... I don't deserve such an honor. Beware the men you allow in your shower, Miss Valski. And I'm certainly not a man who could pretend to suit you in any way."

"Then no other man suits me."

He dared a lustful look on his side, and saw her curves sparkle in the bathroom's dim light. She looked like a living porcelain amphora.

“ Take off all these, Lieutenant, please...” she pleaded – and that's what he did. For the first time, he pushed his raincoat aside ; unbottoned his shirt ; undid his tie ; took of his pants, and threw his long socks away. 

She didn't know what to think of the sight that he offered her – was it good ? Were the broad shoulerds attractive ? Were the strong arms what she thought them to be ? Was he thicker, or thinner ? Yet she knew exactly what it made her feel – Lieutenant Columbo, the squat, absent-minded, married detective of Los Angeles's Homicide, made Anna Valski, seventeen, feel aroused.

“ Anna, I can't – we can't possibly do this” he whispered, stumbling over his words as she trapped his waist between her delicate hands and drew him close to her in the shower with astonishing power and speed. “I'm a cop, I know the law, I -”

“ Yeah, but I'm not a baby, Lieutenant ; you're not a predator, I'm not your prey – besides, I'm turning eighteen in a couple of months. Nobody'll know what happens in that shower, I promise.”

It was hard for Columbo not to keep his eyes on Anna ; hard to remain calm with her hands placed on his blushing cheek ; hard not to say yes. The kiss of her cherry-blossom lips felt like the blow of a revolver through his shivering lips – “ so, she's really kissing me in that shower, she's really kissing a man she hardly knows under that heavy, sensual curtain of water, that...” he realized at once. He let her tongue break in, and moaned loudly when it mingled with his, a hand tracing the line of her collarbone while the other followed her spine.

“ Mmh... tell me, Anna... that picture, with your father and your brother... on the fridge... who took it ?”

She slid her tongue into his mouth again as his fingers started circling her belly button at an obscene speed. 

“The... the local photographer” she inhaled deeply. “We were all invited to a party... before the murder... that's...that's when we took it – Great God ! I feel...”  
“Fine ?” he completed.   
“Yes, fine.”

In an uncontrolled motion, she spread her legs to him, and his wet hands grabbed her thighs as he lifted her so that she could wrap them around his hips. The sensitive skin of her crotch felt nice and warm against his abdomen. Her arms circled his shoulders to tighten her hold; when he was certain that she had a good grip on him, he lowered his hand; traced her inner thigh with his thumb; hesitated. She was impatiently rubbing her lower belly to his as her entrance began to ache.

“Before we get on with it...” he said, placing a swift kiss upon her ear. “Did you notice anything in your father's pocket at the party?”

“Lieutenant... I... stop, I can't give you a decent answer!” she moaned, and he instantly ceased to stroke her legs.

“Better?” he asked.

“B...better. I think it was a note I had given him about my trip to Mexico.”

“Your trip to Mexico?”

“My exact schedule, day after day. He wanted to know everything I did – well, it's logical as I'm not even eighteen. I should've left the airport at ten o'clock in the morning, but I was hardly at the boarding gate when the police called me” she sighed as a tear poured down her face. “The photographer was so sorry for my brother and I... he is a close friend of the family, and he financed most of my father's projects...”

“When did you see him for the last time? I mean, have you seen him since then?”

“No. He gave me the picture when he came to express his condolences” she murmured. “A couple of days after.”

“That'll be all, Miss Valski” he smirked, and feigned to loosen his clinch. 

“Oh, I hope not!”

Their lips joined in a passionate kiss as the Lieutenant's hand ventured higher, causing her to bend over him and smother a loud groan that finally expired in his nape. He was now revolving around her responsive clit as the earth wandered around the most radiant sun, and Anna thought that her whole body was close to breaking up when he pressed an index to her damp folds and, searching her gaze, whispered:

“First time, isn't it?”

She only nodded in response, her lips sealed by excitement. Not only could she feel his gentle thumb against the most private recess of herself, but she also sensed his own hardness, ready to plunge into her. He smiled and tenderly pecked her blushing cheek, as his finger slowly slid inside her and began to slither back and forth at a sweet, nice pace. Anna's body became so warm that the droplets of hot water on her neck felt almost cool, and made her shiver.

“When you have enough, you'll feel this... thing inside you” he murmured to her ear. “You'll feel like you're being flooded with pleasure, and you'll just let the whole thing invade you to the point of being able to forget yourself in the arms of a guy you trust... that's the purpose of what I'm tryna do to you, Anna. That's what you asked me to do, and I will, because I like you and I know you trust me.”  
“I do.”

It all went so quickly that Anna did not know exactly how Columbo made his way to her; he slid a second finger inside, to be sure that she was able to welcome him in; gently withdrew; and stared at her for a second, encouraging her to lose control over every limb. As she stared back, getting lost into his uneven eyes – which were surprisingly focused – a moan, half pleasure, half pain, escaped her lips. 

He was inside her.

At first, their gestures were not coordinated – he was trying to slow down his pace, thinking that she might want to start on a sweeter note; he was wrong. Her body seemed to respond more vividly than he expected, and she pressed herself closer to his chest to take his full thickness inside her, enticing him to quicken his movements at the same time. When, at last, she could feel the core of his length on her crotch, and his strong hands against her back, she abandoned herself to him, letting him do what he pleased; but his mouth only devoured her collarbone as he thrust deeper into her. He let a satisfied moan break through the barrier of his lips, and felt as if his whole soul was sinking into her; her tightness was dazing him. As for Anna, she could not stand the scratching of the Lieutenant any longer, and groaned:

“Lieutenant, I think I – I – I feel the thing,” she only said, panting, as he pushed into her for the last time.

Yet, he came first, brutally, when his length felt so squeezed inside her that he naturally discharged into her like an overflowing river.

“Holy moly!” he cried out, shivering.

Pleasure filled Anna quickly after and caused all her muscles to twich as she lacerated the Lieutenant's neck. “Columbo!” she let out, pressing her lips against his. 

Their bodies were still quaking, but they were kissing each other already, Anna still buried in Columbo's arms, her brown hair streaming on either side of her face. The skin of his cheeks was coarse, but she noticed only now how nice his lips were to the touch. She let her hand run into his curls and said:

“Lieutenant, I think I'm falling in love with you. Is it right or wrong?” she asked while reaching out for a towel and wrapping the two of them in it.

“I don't know, Anna, I don't know. But I know one thing's wrong...” he said with a cheeky smile. “which is to leave a murder unsolved. We'd better go; I'd like to see the clothes of your father. To make sure I'm right about the murderer's intentions.”


End file.
